The Woods
by sakanascales876
Summary: AU. Takes place sometime in the 17th century. Speak of the devil and he doth appear; little did Seras know that it does not even require that much effort. A/S
1. Chapter 1

So, this is most definitely an AU fic. It's Seras/Alucard-centric, but also meant as a horror fic. This story is loosely inspired by the 2015 release of The Witch, although I am staying true to the vampires, because it's, well, Hellsing. So not following the witchcraft trend, so to speak. The time period is also ambiguous, but I am aiming for 17th century. That being said, I don't have them speaking entirely true to form for that period, because sentences riddled with _'thou'_ and _'thine'_ would get pretty old pretty fast and make my brain bleed. That being said, enjoy if you can. If not, please don't sue. I don't own anything. At all.

Disclaimer: References to Christianity abound. But again, it's Hellsing.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Part I.

The forest disturbed her.

She could never quite place why the dense trees stirred waves of nausea within her gut, but Seras supposed it was a subtle warning to cease staring and finish her chores. After all, she was expected to look after the little ones while the harvest ensued, and idleness was intolerable, according to her cousin.

"Seras! Se-have you not finished with your scrubbing, yet?"

 _Speak of the devil and he doth appear_.

Seras cringed, upturning the pot she had just finished scouring into the small stream before her. Wiping her hands haphazardly on her apron, she turned to face her irate kinswoman.

"Forgive me, Everild," she answered, gathering the pots and standing abruptly. "I lost myself in thought and-,"

"Be lucky I have found you, then! Such idleness could soon be called sin. And you have needed enough time this season to be asking the Lord's forgiveness!" Everild scolded, taking in the state of the girl with a fierce scowl. "Gather yourself and fetch the children. I must help Calvert and Osmond tend the oxen."

The older woman began to stalk away, but not before adding, "Bring the children here, if you must. I want those pots finished by the eve, if we're to have anything to cook in!"

She stomped up the path leading to the stable and out of Seras' sight.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"But have you ever actually _seen_ a wraith, Rowley?"

"Bite your tongue," Seras admonished lightly.

The children took no heed, however. "I have! At the edge of the trees! Do you call me a liar?"

The small girl shook her head furiously, sandy pigtails flicking dangerously about her face. "I simply say that only men close to their deaths can see a wraith, and you look healthy as Old Charlotte to me!"

Seras stopped scrubbing her pots just in time to see Rowley's small face whiten. "That's enough out of you, child! Frightening your brother in such a way-is there such cruelness in you that you would speak to him so maliciously?"

When she saw the little girl's face crumple, she sighed and set her work aside. The baby beside her stirred slightly in his rest, but did not wake. "Come here, now." Her arms were soon laden with two young children who wept into her chest as if the end of days were upon them.

"I did not mean to speak so punitively," Seras murmured.

Rowley turned a trembling lip her way. She tried to wipe the tears streaming down his face, but found herself rendered immobile as the young girl clasped her tightly. Resigning herself to hellfire for her idleness, Seras rocked the boy and girl until their cries subsided. When only sniffles came forth and she was sure they were wiping their noses onto her dress, Seras pushed them back, ruffling their hair fondly.

"Was mother harsh with you?" Rowley asked tentatively, still clutching her arm.

"No, her rebukes were well-earned. I have been slothful and she only sought to help me repent."

The small girl scrunched her face. "I haven't done my chores in two days. Does that mean I have sinned?"

Rowley threw a black look in her direction. "I am not certain, Aldercy. I had to finish them for you, lest mother and father find out."

Aldercy giggled. "Then you have saved me, brother!" She threw herself at Rowley, and they began to tousle in the dirt. Seras rolled her eyes at the display, but returned to her washing, determined to finish before the sun descended further. Absently, she glanced at the babe asleep close by, nestled on a blanket made by Everild upon his birth.

 _Hopefully they do not wake the baby. As if I do not have enough to contend with._

As if to spite her, the merry shrieks of the children rose in volume, and Seras had to fight to keep her tongue in check.

"Children, hush now. Your brother sleeps."

Aldercy made a face at her that would have had her whipped by her mother. "All he ever does is sleep! Me and Rowley aren't doing anything wrong!" Rowley continued chasing his sister away from the edge of the trees, running circles around the path to the house.

"You are testing my patience, and your mother left you in my keep-," _however grudgingly_ , "Leave your sister be!"

She rose and began to stalk after them, nearly tripping in her haste. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves, carrying on as you do-!"

A shriek cut the air. Tiny, yet strong, and definitely in pain.

The siblings stopped in their tracks, eyes wide with shock as they turned to Seras, who whipped around to determine the cause of the disturbance.

Her eyes met red.

She nearly missed it, standing against the near blackness of the woods before her. As it was, she was only able to see the demon because of the contrast of its dark muzzle against the pale yellow of the blanket. A great black beast stumbled away from her, eyes narrowed on her form as it dragged the cloth away with baby in tow. The child was bawling from being hauled in such a way over rocks and pointed sticks, kicking furiously at the air.

The red eyes, however, never left hers.

"A wraith! A wraith!" Aldercy screamed. "A wraith got Bromley!"

Rowley grabbed his sister and sprinted as fast as his little legs could carry him. "Father! Father, help!"

They disappeared out of sight on the dirt pathway leading to the house, stumbling every few steps in their panic. Seras could only hear their chaotic ascent to safety, as she could not tear her eyes from the beast, who almost seemed mocking in its gaze. She started when she realized that it would soon have Bromley past the tree line, where only a few steps further could render one invisible in the darkness.

She screwed up her courage with a prayer and ran after the beast.

"Stop!" she cried. "Release him!"

As she tore wildly into the woods, she could hear the loud calls of Osmund and Calvert behind her. Seras prayed they at least had the sound mind to bring a gun with them, for she could not think of anything else that would be capable of slaying such a large animal. The beast in question quickened its pace, still frightfully swift for an animal forced to run backward with something in its teeth.

In fact, it looked downright _unnatural_.

"Cousins! Cousins, this way!" She shouted into the air as she ran, hopeful that they would follow her voice. The beast was almost beyond her vision, so dark was the forest this time of day. Seras could hardly make out the pale yellow of Bromley's blanket, and his pitiful cries pierced her heart. To Seras' dismay, they disappeared under a small gap created by a fallen tree. Her lungs stung horribly from running, but with a burst of strength, she hopped over the tree to continue on, only to find-

Nothing.

There was nothing. She whipped her head around madly, trying to make out any sign of her little cousin or the beast who stole him. Instead, the darkness enveloped her and she found she could scarcely breathe as the air began closing in.

"He was right there!" she gasped. "But he was-!" She skirted around the downed wood to take stock of the tracks behind her. There were three sets: the prints of her boots, a narrow gouge in the dirt that appeared distinctly like the drag-marks that would be created by a small sack, and a large animal's footprints. She ran around to the other side again. The dirt around her looked as if a stampede had just occurred, but Seras could only make out shapes that fit the sole and size of her shoe. Her thoughts fragmented, and she found she couldn't have strung a sentence together to save her life. She stared at the ground hollowly, listening for the cries of a babe that would horrifically relieve her, but she received nothing.

"Seras!" It was Osmund. "Seras! Where are you?"

She could hear him close in on her, nearly as breathless, but looking twice as haggard.

"Are you hurt? Where is the beast? Bromley, is he-?" Osmund looked into his younger cousin's face and fell silent. He dropped his sickle onto the forest floor and began to turn helplessly about. "Seras, where did it go? Did you see it?"

Tears came forth, and she found herself gasping, "It ran under this tree and disappeared like an apparition!"

"That is impossible," Osmund wheezed. "It had to have gone somewhere!"

"I do not know!" she buried her face in her hands. "I do not know!"

Osmund grabbed her by the shoulders desperately and shook. "It will be dark soon! You must have seen it move, Seras! Have you any idea? Any at all?"

But Seras only cried harder at the sight of his face, and he dropped her to the ground, tearing at his hair and breathing furiously.

So wrapped up were they that they didn't hear another set of footsteps approach. "Father! Seras! Where is it? Are you alright?"

Osmund clutched his son's shoulder and looked into his eyes. "We must find Bromley before dusk. Take Seras back to your mother and tell her to keep the children inside."

"But which way did the wraith go?" Calvert asked. "Rowley said there was a wraith."

Seras shook her head. "It was no wraith! It snatched Bromley by the creek and it left no tracks like a devil in the night!"

Calvert looked panicked and lost. "What do you mean it left no tracks?"

"Beyond this tree, see!" Seras stood and pointed at the downed wood as if it were to blame. With a shaking voice, she explained, "Heading back toward the farm, you can see the tracks it left while I chased it." She pulled Calvert around the wood and pointed. "Look!"

Calvert squinted into the darkness while Osmund hovered frantically over his shoulder. Taking in the large paw-prints interspersed with footprints and a soul-wrenching drag-mark, the two men glanced at one another in confusion. Coming back around to where they had found Seras, they analyzed the prints and noticed only those of a woman's shoe.

Both men stared at her blankly, unable to speak. Seras continued to shake, unable to think of anything but the beast that now had her little cousin in its jaw. Calvert was the first to break the uncomfortable gaze, electing to look at the ground instead. After a few moments, Osmund drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and stepping away toward his sickle. He snatched it up and held it loosely at his side.

"Come, we must go back to your mother."

Seras quaked at the flatness in his voice. "But we have to find-,"

"You will search no more." He leveled a stern expression at her. "You will keep Everild calm while Calvert and I comb the woods-,"

"Father."

"-We must go back and prepare torches if we are to search in the dark-,"

"Father."

"-cannot have anybody else getting lost-,"

"Father!"

Osmund turned sharply to his son. "What is it, Calvert!"

"Look!" He pointed at the dirt near Seras' feet, who immediately shuffled backward. The three drew around the spot indicated by Calvert and squinted at the ground. Seras struggled to see what could possibly be in the dirt as her eyes attempted to adjust.

She almost wished they hadn't.

"What devilry is this?" Osmund cried, glancing between the two of them as if they somehow knew better than he.

In the dirt before them lay the perfect imprint of a boot, obscured slightly by the lack of light but distinguishable by its sheer size and deepness. Too large to belong to any man or woman among the three, it stood out starkly against the trampled ground around them. Seras gasped as her eyes moved ahead. "But look! There is another!"

They followed its intended path forward, only to find another print to mirror it, and another after that. With grim determination, they charted the would-be stranger's path until the light dissipated and they could no longer see the ground. But they could already guess at the creature's destination.

The woods stood black before them.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

As they stumbled out of the forest, Everild released Rowley and Aldercy, who had quieted for hours while she led them in frightful prayer.

"Are you alright? Osmund, did you kill the beast?"

She glanced between each of her faces helplessly, wringing her hands before her.

"Where is Bromley?"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

***Well, I hope you made it through that. I got on a horror movie kick, and The Witch is one of my new favorites. A fair warning to those who seek it out: it is easily the most disturbing movie I have ever watched, the 2003 CGI Scooby Doo movie notwithstanding.

I haven't written in this fandom before, but I will try to stay true to form. This chapter could not contain as much character-building for Seras as I would have liked, as a lot of stuff had to go down. She'll be more normal and spunky later. We'll surely see that in the future when a certain shadowy bro shows up. I swear this is a romance fic too, I swear.

Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

Another chapter so soon! What sorcery be this?  
I am really sizzling with energy to write this story, so here is an update. As always, I own nothing.

And special surprise guest(s) for you in this chapter. I wonder who they could be (goes through list of approximately ten central Hellsing characters)?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Part II.

They did not speak.

The house was as quiet as attending congregations at church, by Seras' reckoning. _But perhaps that is simply imagined_ , she mused. _I have not seen the inside of a church in twelve years._

Aldercy and Rowley were huddled together in their straw-bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling. She had not heard their trilling voices in three days, and not even the thrill of harassing the animals could incite them to play. Seras did not believe they were truly mourning, however, as much as it pained her to admit it; the twins were simply unable to process the household's graveness and did not understand how to act.

She had heard little Rowley ask his father the prior evening, "But why have we not gone to get Bromley?"

Osmund paused, his axe raised over the wedge of wood he had been preparing to split. "We do not speak of that, especially not with your mother in sight! Do you hear?"

The brusqueness and pain in his voice had apparently resonated with the six year-old, for Seras did not hear him talk after that.

Of course, they had searched for Bromley. They combed the woods for hours the following morning. Calvert had hitched the oxen to the wagon and made haste to town to muster the men. Seras had watched them arrive and provided them water and food while they split into parties to narrow the search. She had been surprised when the town's priest, Alexander Anderson, arrived two days later. He did not go into the woods immediately, but instead went to Everild, who had not left her bed since they had stumbled out of the trees, afraid to answer the mother's pleas which soon dissolved into agonized screams. Osmund had carried her inside and ordered Seras to care for her and the children while they continued their pursuit. With a sense of detachment, she took up complete upkeep of the home; she tended the animals, washed and dressed the twins, cleaned the stove and brought her cousins food. Everild rejected hers, of course, so Seras was relieved to hear Father Anderson attempt to coax her out of bed.

"I will not leave this room until my son is delivered to me!"

Father Anderson spoke in a voice that Seras assumed was supposed to be soothing. "Aye, Everild, but you frighten the lit'le ones by actin' so."

But Everild behaved as if she had not heard him. "And he was unbaptized! Unbaptized, Father! I spoke to Osmund ceaselessly, 'we must get that babe to the church,' but he did not listen!" She began to dissolve into tears. "And because of my husband's prideful conceit, my baby is in Hell! In Hell! He burns for our sins!"

She heard the priest move forward to comfort the woman, but Seras could no longer bear being in the house any longer. With shallow breaths, she bolted outside and ran into Calvert, who had been striding purposefully toward the front door.

His expression was grave and closed off. "Seras, you must go back inside. Father Anderson is needed."

"What is the matter?" Seras whimpered. "Did you find anything?"

"Go back inside, cousin. You will need to keep mother in her bed."

Seras could feel her throat begin to close. "You found him."

Calvert did not meet her eyes. "Nay, but speak not to mother about this."

"But what then- - -?"

"Back inside with you!" he shoved her none to gently. "Send the priest out and tell mother it is simply to speak with father. Say nothing else."

Bewildered and frightened, Seras went back inside, hovering nervously outside her cousin's open bedroom door. She was sobbing into the priest's cassock while he rocked her gently.

"What is it, lass?" Father Anderson muttered quietly, turning an eye toward her. Everild stilled immediately and pinned her with a wide-eyed stare, which Seras could not bring herself to meet.

"Calvert bids you speak with cousin Osmund, Father Anderson."

The priest stood immediately, straightening his clothing and patting Everild's hand reassuringly. "Worry not. I will be back." He glanced at Seras. "Fetch your dear cousin somethin' to eat, would you? A bit of porridge would do her good."

Seras nodded, stepping aside as Father Anderson moved through the doorway and out the main entrance. When the door shut behind him, she went to bring Everild the aforementioned porridge, avoiding her piercing gaze as best she could. When she placed the bowl into her cousin's hands, the older woman simply bowed her head.

"They have not found anything, then?"

Seras made herself busy by rearranging the pillows and sheets. "I do not know. Calvert did not say it was anything important. They must be rearranging the search parties."

Everild sniffed. "It is kind of them to come out here to help us, even though Osmund has been none too silent about the church."

Seras nodded, unsure of how to respond. "Father Anderson has been most generous."

"Yea, for a Catholic, he has been kind." She tried to eat a spoonful of porridge, but instead set the bowl aside, to Seras' disappointment. Squaring her shoulders, Everild went to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out a simple dress to slip over her nightgown. "I must check on them and hear any news. Thank them, if I can."

Seras shook her head fervently, placing her hands on her cousin's shoulders. "Nay, Everild. Calvert wanted you to stay inside and rest. You have not slept and your strength wanes!"

Everild was not to be deterred. She grabbed Seras by the elbow and walked her sternly to the corner before resuming her dressing. "None of that nonsense, child. I have not been charitable to these men who have given up their time to help us. It is most shameful." She finished tying her laces and pulled her dark hair into a bun, which only served to highlight the bags under her eyes and visible cheekbones. "Fetch some more water from the creek and bring it up here so they are able to drink."

Seras watched helplessly as Everild exited the room, moving to the front door to grab her worn shawl from a hook near the stove. "Seras? Get a move on, child!"

She shook herself, moving quickly to place herself between her cousin and the door. "Everild, I must insist! Calvert was most adamant that you rest properly. I am sure he would allow you to inquire- - -,"

"My son does not permit my comings and goings," Everild growled. "And how dare you speak to your elder kin with such conceit?" She brushed past Seras, who tried to grasp Everild's shawl, to no avail. The dark-haired woman opened the front door swiftly and stepped outside, turning toward the edge of the forest, where the men were to be assembled. Her face whitened, and before Seras could say anything, she collapsed to the ground with a sob tearing at her throat. Rushing forward, Seras grasped Everild around her waist and tried to haul her up, but the older woman was having none of it; she buried her face in Seras's chest, which did nothing to muffle her screams. Shock and panic began to claim Seras, who could do no more than cradle her cousin while she cried. Her eyes searched about frantically, seeking out the source of misery.

Her eyes soon locked onto the towering form of Father Anderson, who stood at the center of the crowd. His face was contorted in what would have been anguish on any other man, but Seras could see a glimmer of Hell-fire in those emerald eyes.

In his hands was a crumpled blanket, shining yellow in the afternoon sun, spattered with blood.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They did not speak.

With the twins huddled together on their bed and Calvert leaning against her tiredly, Seras could not do anything but stare at the floor of their shared room. Too afraid were they to move about, lest they make a sound that could potentially disturb Everild. The men had gone to their homes not long after the blanket was found, as it was clear what the fate of the babe had been. Osmund had thanked them with as much grace as a grieving father could, but they could hear him weep at night with Everild, despite wrapping their blankets around their heads.

She and Calvert picked up the slack around the farm. Osmund still had them awake at the crack of dawn, ready to continue the harvest. His enthusiasm at their first successful crop since moving onto the property the previous year had not entirely diminished, and it seemed to be the only thing that cheered him, other than reading the Lord's Book. Seras found herself with twice as much work, as Everild was in no state to care for anyone, even herself. However, an immense burden was taken from her when the women from town began to send food over in sympathy. Although she still had to take time to prepare meals, it was not nearly as arduous as it had been.

The twins, she noticed, had been sullen since the pronouncement of their brother's death. They did not stray from the farm (not that Everild would let them; she was particularly fierce about that whenever she caught wind about anything involving the forest) and played quietly amongst themselves during the day. Seras was worried, but found she could do little about it, especially with all of her extra chores.

Calvert would go into his parent's room each day and bring his mother flowers. She would not speak to him, but laid a kiss upon her brow each day regardless. He worked himself ridiculously hard, assuming most of his father's more strenuous tasks and taking it upon himself to contact the town each week to maintain friendliness between the strained companies.

He leaned his head against Seras' shoulder, unable to drop into a doze in the dead silence.

"We must go back into town, Osmund."

They all stirred slightly to hear Everild speak. Staring at each other blankly, they each held their breath and stared at the ground, hoping that they could hear through the floor above the couple's bedroom.

"You know we cannot do that- - -," Osmund began.

"Cannot or will not?" Everild snarled. "Is your pride so much to you that you cannot face those men? Your disagreements with the church have cost us- - -,"

"Bite your tongue!" Osmund hissed. "We can no more live among those hypocrites and heathens than leave this place! The crop is good, love; we will make it through this."

"You would dare to call this 'making it through'? Our baby snatched by some demon and- - -,"

"'Twas a wolf, Everild. Not some superstitious beast."

"The children saw it!"

"They are but children, wife."

Seras and Calvert pressed closer to the floor to hear better.

"- - -We have put too much into this farm to abandon it now, Everild! We must at least see through one season to sell- - -,"

"You would have us live out here with some beast on the prowl? When will it snatch another of mine? Or do you hope for such a thing, less mouths to feed- - -,"

"'Tis cruel of you- - -,"

"Cruel!"

He immediately hushed her. "Do you want our children to hear this? Peace!"

"Calvert?" Everild called. "Aldercy? Seras?"

The four of them looked at one another, but did not answer.

"They sleep in the place where the good Lord protects them!" she hissed. "And what of the girl?"

Osmund was quiet for a moment. "What girl?"

"Your cousin! She is nearly of marriageable age, and we have had plenty of respectable offers. At the very least, she is old enough to serve in another's home."

"You would pawn off your own kin? And you falsely name me detestable!" Osmund growled. "Seras has ever helped us and obeyed us like one of our own! I will not throw out William's daughter like a piece of refuse, Everild, make no mistake of that."

Seras desperately wanted to tear her ear away from the floor, away from the argument happening one floor below her, but she could not. She would beg forgiveness for her gluttony on the morrow, but she simply could not shut the voices out. Calvert was looking at her with a mixture of shock and pity, torn between carrying her away and listening in to the rest of the conflagration himself. The twins stared at each other with wide eyes, but neither Seras nor Calvert moved to comfort little Rowley, whose face was now red from crying.

The silence was unbearable. Seras almost wished they would start shouting at one another until she heard Osmund quietly mutter, "Seras is not at fault for what happened to Bromley, Everild. Surely you know that?"

They could tell Everild was battling sobs with her reply: "I am just so angry! I know she did not mean it- - -she is a sweet child! But how could she let that- - -that _thing_ get him? How could she? Did she not watch them like I asked? Was her sloth so great she could not be bothered to keep an eye out for her relations?"

Osmund must have grabbed her at that point, for they could hear nothing more than Everild's muffled weeping through the floor. Calvert sat up with his face pale as his nightshirt. Slowly, he peeled Seras, who was in a near faint, off the floor and carried her over to her bed. After laying her down gently, he moved to hush the twins, who were softly sniffing in the corner. Through her numbness, Seras heard him whisper, "Mother is upset, Seras. Do not take heed of her words."

Nevertheless, she did not sleep that night.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A few hours before dawn, Seras found herself sitting at the creek by herself, staring apathetically at the dark water. She knew she should not be out so late, especially given the circumstances, but she was sure she would suffocate if she remained in that room, filled with narrowed eyes and harsh accusations. A hatchet lay in the grass beside her, taken from the stable where she knew Osmund kept his tools. If a beast were to come for her, she could at least put up the semblance of a fight.

 _Perhaps I should just marry,_ she mused. _They would be rid of me, and I would not cause them any more pain._

Tears began to stream down her face in earnest. Picking up the hatchet, she swung it fiercely into the grass, a burst of resentment fueling her anger.

 _I did not mean to! I did not mean to. Oh, how I wish I could have him back!_ And it was true; she had loved that baby almost like a son. Calvert had been two years her junior, so he had always been a playmate to her in childhood. Even after her parents had died and Osmund took her in, she and Calvert had always been the best of friends. Of course, that changed when they started to grow older. He was expected to help his father in managing the store, but when Osmund had become too vocal about his prejudice against the church and they wisely left the town before accusations could fly, the farm consumed him. And Seras was expected to look after the little ones, so they hardly spoke as friends any longer, too tired to swish their feet in the creek and complain about their prayers and never-ending chores. Bromley had been a god-send. Where Aldercy and Rowley grated on her nerves with their games, the baby had been an even tempered sprite whom she adored. And knowing that Everild resented her for his loss…

Perhaps she could speak to Father Anderson. Her father had originally been a member of his congregation; perhaps she could earn her keep by serving the church or becoming a nun.

It was during these musings that Seras felt a tickle against her calf. She jolted forward with a small scream, her hatchet left behind her on the ground. With her bottom submerged in the stream, she turned frantically to find what had disturbed her.

Writhing on the ground was a centipede, large and black against the moonlight with legs convulsing in the air. She fought the urge to vomit as it flung itself about wildly, thrashing every which way as if struck by a seizure. Seras rose slowly, wincing as the water dripped from her now sodden dress. With morbid curiosity, she stood over the vile insect, staring as it continued jerking in the grass. Revolted, she picked up her abandoned hatchet and mercifully brought it down on the creature, satisfied when the twitching finally ceased.

A low chuckle sounded from behind her.

"A bit cruel now, was it not?"

She abruptly turned to face the intruder, hatchet raised in fright. When she found the stranger was nearly standing on top of her, she gasped. Next she knew, her weapon was snatched from her hands and flung aside, landing some feet away in the grass with a muffled thud. Seras attempted to shriek, but it was as if an invisible hand was constricting her throat, leaving her helpless against what was turning out to be a very tall and threatening man. He wore a red greatcoat, the likes of which she had only ever seen on the gentlemen from England, wealthy and confident of the fortunes they had found in this new land. But the man certainly looked anything but English: a black mass of hair past his shoulders, a beard and mustache trimmed neatly over aristocratic cheekbones, and a grin spread across his face with an intensity that made it look as if it had been stitched on.

To any God-fearing man or woman, he looked absolutely _horrifying_.

"A hatchet to the face? That is not a kindly thing to greet a stranger with, little scrubber."

When she felt as if she could breathe again, the first coherent thing out of her mouth was also incredibly senseless. "Scrubber?"

"That is what you do, is it not?" He raised a dark eyebrow. "You scrub pots and pans to your heart's content! It is astounding you have any fingers left, girl." The stranger glanced down to her grubby hands disdainfully. "And you are certainly little. Well, at least, not where it c _ounts_." He ran his eyes over her with a leer, and Seras fought the urge to run. The desire to scream had returned full-force, but each time she opened her mouth, she found her throat being compressed tightly again. So she sought another route.

"Can I help you sir?" _Do not anger him. He looks deranged! Who would dress like that other than Lucifer himself?_ "My cousin is inside. If you have business with him, I shall go and fetch him for you- - -,"

The man raised a hand that commanded her silence. "No, that will not be necessary. My business lies elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?"

He certainly must have thought her as dull as she felt. "Yes, elsewhere. You see, it is bad manners to not properly thank someone who has rendered you a service."

Seras was even more bewildered. And frightened. And curious. But her fear of being taken advantage of overruled whatever childish curiosity that urged her to speak. Luckily, he continued on.

"So I must thank you, Seras Victoria! It will not mean anything to you now, ignorant as you are, but you will inevitably realize how narrowly you have secured your continued existence."

 _Oh God._

She began to step backward as sheer panic set in, but could hardly see the hands that swiftly grabbed her arms in the darkness. She tried to kick him, but his stance was rigid, and any blow she managed to land against his legs did not even nudge him slightly. Tears began to sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall; she needed to be able to see if she managed to get away by some miracle, and if this was to be her last moment, she would at least go down fighting.

He looked down at her with an appraising eye, as if inspecting a jewel. "Hn. At the very least, there is fun to be had with you."

"Then have it, will you?" she spat, writhing against his iron grasp. "I will not be threatened so and expected to lie down and take your spite, devil! Unhand me or fight!"

He began to guffaw loudly, and she prayed that her cousins could at least hear the ruckus from the house.

"Oh, they will not hear anything, girl, so abandon that childish hope." The man wiped a stray tear from his eye, and Seras noted absently that it was a dark and viscous fluid. "You should be glad that you are in my good graces and that you are so amusing. The same cannot be said for the rest of your ilk."

He dropped her onto the ground. So frightened was she that Seras did not even notice the centipede pieces being crushed against her back. She did not dare take an eye off the man, for if he moved against her, she could not even scream for help due to whatever compulsion that was silencing her. He pierced her with his gaze, filling the air with unnatural sensations that made her flesh crawl, despite the heat of summer against her skin. After a long moment, he finally spoke.

"I would caution you against telling your relatives of this encounter; it will certainly do them no good." The stranger turned and began to glide toward the trees. "If you have need of me, you may simply call- - -I am never far from hand."

When he reached the tree-line, he turned back to face her, a gloved hand clutching his chin as though in thought. "Oh, and girl?" he called mockingly. "Do get some rest. You look as if you've seen a wraith!"

His eyes glowed red against the blackness.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

***…And the royal jackass hath arrived. Poor Seras, she just tries so hard *insert He-Man meme here*

I went and gave you all another chapter because the first one doesn't really provide much in terms of plot, characters, etc. It was really just to get the ball rolling, but now the insanity can ensue! That being said, I should have another out in about a week. Do not hold me to that. The last time anybody held me to a fanfiction deadline I dropped off the face of the earth for four years. This is mostly an exercise to get back into writing, but I have summer classes starting up again, so bear with me.

A special thanks to all of you who reviewed. You guys are all so sweet and I hope you like this chapter! Reviews are not necessary, but are always appreciated.

Cheers!


End file.
